It's the monthly countdown to you-know-what and once again, my hormones are wreaking havoc in my brain. The emotional baggage, the tears, the heart palpitations, the incredible sadness. Luckily, I made a friend today (so the husband was spared!) who was willing to let it all rage, throughout the day as well as during a 9:30 pm Sex and The City: The Movie screening. (Not a great movie to watch while PMSing but a dreamy escape otherwise.) She told me that dramatic hormonal changes experienced in your thirties could be a sign of early menapouse which reminded me that my mother went through it at the ripe age of 39. Great! One more thing to add to my list of worries during this year of midlife crisis.
Last night, the husband and I overpaid a babysitter to attend a corporately-sponsored screening of Troya, a performance reminiscent of Riverdance, most of which was about the joyous multi-ethnic dancing one did following some of the most legendary battles fought on the shores of the Aegean. As one could only do in 1250 B.C. of course. The only dancing I'll be doing this summer is at a friend's wedding and I doubt this battle within will get resolved by then.
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You should have come singing with us. Yelling off the top of our lungs for three hours with only your chick friends really helps with the mood swings the achy knees the pimples and the constant urge to strangle someone.
I promise to fan you if you go thru menopause early if you promise to help me up the stairs with my early arthritis.
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